Page 57 of Demon Food

Yes, but desire and necessity were one and the same for them. And yet, other than his appearance, there was zero indication that he was even hungry. I’d never seen someone treat starvation like it was just a petty inconvenience. Perhaps he was fully broken.

“My turn,” he said.

No, I wasn’t ready to move on. I had so many questions still. What happens if you don’t find the perfect person? What happens if you get too sick to carry on? What did you mean when you said we needed a fucking revolution!

“What is your favorite color, Snow Fox?”

I blinked. I didn’t know if I was waiting for him to correct himself or laugh it off as a joke, but he did neither. He cocked his head, expecting. After a few moments, it became clear he meant to ask that.

“I’m sorry,” I said, squinting. “But what the hell are you talking about?”

He cut his eyes to the side. “I’m talking about color? Can you not see color, beloved?”

“No, I can, but why does that matter? Why would you need to know that?”

“I would argue that it’s not a need so much as a want.”

I parted my lips to speak and realized I didn’t have anything to say. “I don’t have a favorite color, Prince. As I’m not five.”

“You know, I take back all that stuff I said about your lack of mirth. What a ball of joy you are.”

I rolled my eyes.

“So, what was it when you were five, then? Humor me, Snow Fox.”

This was what the prince of Novithia wanted to ask of me. What my favorite color was as a child. It didn’t appear he needed to be humored. He stayed humored.

My head fell back against the wall with a thud.

When I thought about my childhood, the brutal memories were the bedrock. My parents’ death. The hell of the orphanage. I didn’t think about the pleasant ones often, like how I used to feed that one carp fish in the stream by my home. How it would circle my bare feet, its fins the most radiant color I’d ever seen beneath the fresh mountain water.

That was it. My favorite color. I would wake up early just to see it.

“Red,” I said. “When I was a child, it was red.”

He made a low humming noise. “And is it still red?”

I pictured the walls in the Tasting Room of the brothel and the flowers my mother used to paint over our door every Spring. “It is.”

His smile was a little wistful. “Well, look at that, Snow Fox.”

I slitted my eyes. Look at what, you fucking puzzle?

“We both learned something new about you today.”

Maybe this was his game. To puzzle me with charm. To position himself as someone who was safe—the safest vultus in the kingdom. The only one to ever exist.

How fucking foolish. He wasn’t safe any more than he was healthy. And just because he hadn’t killed someone yet, didn’t mean he wouldn’t the second he found the perfect human.

“Come play cards with me,” he said, his voice low and smooth like silk. “I insist.”

There was nothing safe about him, no matter how fucking charming he was. And I had to make damn sure that he never thought I might be the perfect human. Or at least a human who would suffice to save his life.

“Actually, if it’s no bother,” I said, trying for nonchalance, missing it by a long shot, “I’d like some time to myself.”

His face fell a little. He was disappointed. He’d wanted me to say yes.

“To take a bath, you know.” I shrugged a shoulder. “Relax for a bit.”